Echizenkuuuun!
by Anria
Summary: Ripped from the editing floor for episode 97. Massive spoilers for said episode, KentarouRyoma.


**Disclaimer**: Prince of Tennis = not mine.  
**Warnings**: vaguely silly, massive spoilers for episode 97.  
**Pairings**: Kentarou/Ryoma  
  
Written for Trixie's birthday!   
  


**Echizen-kuuuun!**

  
It started off simply enough.  
  
The game they'd postponed left Ryoma too pumped to sleep for long, and he woke up at five a.m. with adrenaline pounding through his veins. Unable to relax, he got up, wandering into the kitchen to drink the milk Inui-senpai had prescribed for him. Ryoma got ready in a daze, moving through the long-conditioned motions with his mind firmly fixed on the tournament. It didn't really register with him that he didn't have to be up and about for hours yet; he just got ready.  
  
He was halfway to the tennis courts before he realised what he was doing. Ryoma stopped in the middle of the street, considering, then shrugged and moved on. There was no point in turning back; he wouldn't be able to sleep any more, and even if no one was at the tennis courts he could still burn off some excess energy hitting balls into a wall.  
  
. . . which just wasn't appealing at _all_. Ryoma wanted a proper match.  
  
Wandering, he found himself outside the court he'd played. The gate squeaked when he opened it, the sound echoing over the empty court and its surroundings. Ryoma walked into the middle of the court, and stopped.  
  
Now that he was here, he felt more than a little stupid.  
  
And yet he wasn't surprised to hear the other door to the court open.  
  
"So you did come after all!"  
  
It was unfortunate that Aoi Kentarou's voice put Ryoma's teeth on edge. He quite liked Rokkaku's first year regular, otherwise; they were a little too similar in some ways for him not to. But Kentarou was just too _loud_.  
  
The taller boy was grinning at him, managing to look both delighted and sheepish at once. "I couldn't just stand around," he said, then laughed a little. "So Echizen-kun is just like me!"  
  
Ryoma found himself battling both irritation and amusement – irritation at the other boy's irrepressible (not to mention broken) volume control, and amusement at realising Kentarou thought on exactly the same lines as he.  
  
. . . and at that, irritation managed to completely take over. Kentarou was over-loud and annoying, just like his stupid father. Ryoma was _not_ like that, not in any way. "I just happened to be here," he told the taller boy.  
  
The bastard was _laughing_ at him. "Again with that, even this early? What's in that bag?"  
  
Shit. He'd forgotten about the bag.  
  
Fortunately, Kentarou began speaking again, sparing Ryoma the embarrassment of having to come up with a lame excuse. Raising his racquet, he said, "Since we're here, let's play. Even if it is a little early."  
  
For a split second, the smaller first-year felt like saying he'd rather hit balls at a wall. But then . . . hadn't he just been thinking that that wasn't appealing in the slightest? What he _really_ wanted to do was continue the match from yesterday. So turning down the offer was just stupid.  
  
Lifting his head, Ryoma said, "Sure."  
  
"This was your intention all along, right?"  
  
There were several levels to Aoi Kentarou, Ryoma decided abruptly. There was the annoying top level which talked too loud and didn't understand the meaning of either "shut up" or "be quiet", and then there were the strangely insightful levels underneath it which peeked out at the oddest intervals. Like right now.  
  
Ryoma would be irritated at how Kentarou was just like him, except that that was the reason he liked him.  
  
Against his will, of course.  
  
. . . but still.  
  
Kentarou was continuing, and Ryoma shook himself out of his daze, wondering how the heck he'd managed to tune out _that_ abrasive voice. He caught the tail end of Kentarou's request for them to change, but didn't bother to acknowledge it – simply walked over to his bench and dropped the bag onto it. A couple of practise swings with the racquet and some light stretches, and he was ready to go.  
  
"Whenever you're ready," he said, willing to cede the serve to the other boy just so they could get started.  
  
Kentarou didn't look surprised. He was already bouncing the ball on the court.  
  


**oOo**

  
As the game continued, Ryoma felt the tension that had been present in him ever since the previous night drain rapidly from his back and shoulders. It was almost like playing Fuji-senpai, he decided – the sheer enjoyment of a difficult game had been present then, and was present now. Kentarou was _good_, there was no denying it – and good competition always set Ryoma's blood pounding.  
  
Gradually, the game picked up pace as the two warmed up, a string of rapid volleys back and forth over the net, with neither being able to get the upper hand. It seemed to be a replay of their match the following day – each time one gained the lead, the other scored a point and overtook him – and getting that point became increasingly difficult.  
  
They played each other seriously. They didn't know how to do anything else.  
  
Ryoma didn't realise he was smiling, too caught up in countering each of his opponent's volleys to notice that his enjoyment of the game was – for once – showing on his face. It felt exhilarating, playing against someone who so closely matched you in every way it was as if they'd known each other for years.  
  
And then something changed.  
  
Standing at the baseline, Kentarou hit the ball back to Ryoma, angling the ball into a drop shot. Ryoma was already moving forwards, diving for the ball; he caught it just in time, tapping the ball back over the net in a return drop shot – except that Kentarou had approached the net as well, and hit the ball into a high lob.  
  
Ryoma cursed and turned to run after the ball. There was no way he was giving up this point, not yet—  
  
Kentarou's hand zipped out just as Ryoma was turning, grabbing the front of his shirt and yanking him forward. Ryoma turned his face up, startled – only to be thoroughly kissed.  
  
After a brief moment Kentarou released the smaller boy, dropping him back to his heels on his side of the net. Ryoma blinked up at him, dazed, as the other freshman grinned down at him. "Looks like this point is mine!"  
  
_. . . what?!_  
  
Ryoma was still standing at the net, dazed, when he realised that Kentarou was back at the baseline and waving impatiently. "Oi, oi, Echizen-kun, it's your serve!"  
  
Ryoma's eyes narrowed at the boy at the other end of the court, who was acting for all the world like nothing had happened. A small smirk flickered over his lips, and he tugged his cap down over his eyes.  
  
The game continued as though nothing had happened, except that Ryoma couldn't quite seem to get back the point Kentarou had scored by . . . distracting him. It seemed to have put him permanently in the lead.  
  
It annoyed him.  
  
A lot.  
  
. . . and then Ryoma had an idea. A horrible, wonderful idea. Because, after all . . . two could play at that game.  
  
It didn't take much effort to manipulate the volley between them. Kentarou, confident in his ability to counter Ryoma's shots and in the lead his distraction had given him, didn't put too much effort into stopping Ryoma's actions.  
  
Ryoma hit the ball at the baseline, sprinting forwards the moment it left the racquet to approach the net. Kentarou darted forwards as well, noticing that the spin on the ball was sending it into a drop shot. It was a simple return – which just made it even easier for Ryoma to hit the ball into a lob, grab the front of Kentarou's shirt, and 'distract' him in return.  
  
It wasn't quite as smooth as Ryoma had been planning – their heads knocked against each other and noses smooshed together, but it definitely distracted his opponent. Kentarou was so distracted he stood their, still half-bent over and blinking, for several seconds after Ryoma let him go.  
  
"Looks like this point is mine," Ryoma told him.  
  
Kentarou started, then grinned. "You're sneaky, Echizen-kun!"  
  
The smaller boy rolled his eyes and walked back to the baseline of the court. "It's your serve," he said, smirking.  
  


**oOo**

  
They eventually called the game off at three games all, reasoning that who actually was the better player should be left to the official game. They ended up standing in front of the vending machines, Ryoma sipping from a can of Ponta as Kentarou paid for his choice.  
  
Wandering, the two found a tree and sat underneath it, cooling off from their game and sipping their respective drinks. The day was warming up, the chill of the morning fading away as the sun rose.  
  
Ryoma thought that it would have been a lovely day, except that Kentarou kept glancing at him.  
  
The smaller boy decided to ignore it. Kentarou wasn't speaking, which was a state of affairs that in his opinion should be drawn out for as long as possible, and asking him _why_ he kept glancing at Ryoma was a good way of cutting it short.  
  
"Ne, Echizen-kun. . . ."  
  
Ryoma almost growled. So much for peace and quiet. "What?" he asked, taking a drink from the can.  
  
"Do you want to go on a date with me?"  
  
Ryoma choked on his mouthful of Ponta, sputtering. "W-what?"  
  
Kentarou was grinning, almost bouncing where he sat. "Go on a date with me!"  
  
"No."  
  
"Echizen-kuuuun!"  
  
"You're noisy."  
  
"But Echizen-kuuuun!"  
  
"No."  
  
"We could play tennis together!"  
  
That actually deserved some thought. But . . . Kentarou didn't even shut up in the middle of a game. "No."  
  
"But you kissed me back!"  
  
Ryoma's face felt hot, and oh how he hated having fair skin. Judging from the sudden stupid grin on Kentarou's face, he had to be blushing. "N-no." He turned away from the other boy, adding, "I'm going to sleep." _Maybe that will make him shut up and go away. . . ._  
  
"You're mean," Kentarou said, pouting. Suddenly, the taller boy's facing sprouted a smile that wouldn't have looked out of place on Fuji. "I'll just have to kiss you again, then!"  
  
Ryoma's eyes widened. "Wha – mmph!"  
  
Kentarou's sudden lunge had knocked them both over backwards, Ryoma hitting the grass with the other boy on top of him, Kentarou's lips pressed firmly against his. Ryoma lost his grip on the can of Ponta, and it went flying off in the opposite direction, spraying the two of them with sugary liquid.  
  
After a long, dazed moment, Ryoma realised that kisses were kind of nice.  
  
Especially when the kisses meant that Kentarou wasn't talking.  
  
Eventually, Kentarou lifted his head, and Ryoma blinked up at the taller boy. The light that filtered in through the tree leaves haloed his head, and just for a moment he did look quite attractive.  
  
"Go out on a date with me?" Kentarou asked, his voice soft.  
  
Without thinking, Ryoma said, "Yes."  
  
"Yatta!" Kentarou threw himself to his feet, his voice irritatingly loud once more. "Echizen-kun is going on a date with me!"  
  
Blinking, Ryoma's eyes narrowed as he realised what had just happened. That manipulative little. . . . He sat up and glowered at the older boy. "If you win our match," he told him.  
  
"Eh?" Kentarou stopped his victory dance. "What was that, Echizen-kun?"  
  
"I'll go on a date with you if you win our match," Ryoma told him. _Which is **not** going to happen,_ he added silently.  
  
Kentarou's face fell, and for a brief second Ryoma felt guilty. It was kind of like kicking an overly enthusiastic puppy. "But, Echizen-kun!" he wailed. "You already said yes!"  
  
"You didn't let me finish."  
  
Kentarou gave him the puppy-dog eyes for a moment longer, then set his jaw. "Okay!" he said. "I'll win this game!"  
  
Ryoma rolled his eyes and ignored him, flopping back onto the grass and pulling his cap over his eyes. Let the hyperactive overloud idiot work himself into a frenzy. Kentarou was _not_ going to win their match.  
  


**oOo**

  
Ryoma had to hide his smug smirk behind his can of Ponta.  
  
It wasn't surprising that he'd won, but it definitely felt good this time. In a way, winning against Kentarou was like winning against his stupid father – a chance to make someone annoying and overloud shut up. And Kentarou was a good enough player to make the game enjoyable.  
  
He ignored the little voice in the back of his head that told him he'd been flirting all the way throughout the game. He was also ignoring the little grins Fuji-senpai kept sending him, that told him he knew _exactly_ what Ryoma and Kentarou were up to, and found it all very amusing.  
  
Ryoma paused for a moment to contemplate what would happen if Fuji _didn't_ find it amusing, and shuddered, closing his eyes and taking a drink from his can of Ponta. Fuji scared him a lot more than he would admit.  
  
"Ech-iz-en-kun!"  
  
Ryoma opened one eye at the sound of his name automatically – and choked on his Ponta when he saw Kentarou three inches from his face. _That idiot! Is he going to—_  
  
"It would be nice if we could play each other again at the Nationals," Kentarou said, breaking Ryoma's rather embarrassing train of thought. "When that time comes, singles—"  
  
"I don't want to play you any more," Ryoma blurted, looking away. _Definitely not, if it means I keep thinking weird things!_  
  
"Ne, ne, Echizen-kun, don't say that," Kentarou cried. "Let's play again! Um . . . I know! How about a practise match right now?"  
  
Ryoma suddenly realised what Kentarou was up to. After all, there couldn't be that many reasons he was pressing for a rematch. . . . Ryoma's eyes narrowed as he thought of what he would have to suffer through if Kentarou actually won their match. Which wasn't likely, but one had to prepare for all eventualities.  
  
"No. I'm going to sleep."  
  
Ryoma saw Kentarou's eyes widen as déjà vu hit, and smirked. This time Kentarou didn't have the option of kissing Ryoma to get his attention, and he knew it.  
  
So he opted for an ear-splitting wail, instead.  
  
"Echizen-kuuuun!" 


End file.
